Paper Flowers
by Pand0rica
Summary: Merlin is Arthur's imaginary friend growing up.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

_Four years old._

Uther Pendragon sat at the highest point in the long, robust table. Only shallow breaths and the knights quietly shifting their positions on chairs could be heard. Uther swept up the important pieces of paper, straightened them, stood and cleared his throat.

A shrill wail pierced the almost-silence, the heavy doors to the room being thrown open as a guard stepped in. Uther gave him a hard stare as he apologised profusely.

"I – I am sorry, Sire, I told him that he couldn't see you at the moment. I said that you were busy but -"

The king's eyes drifted downward as a small, golden haired boy stalked through with his face scrunched and still crying. A miniature wooden toy sword trailed behind him loosely. This was extremely embarrassing. Uther watched the knights for their reactions to his son's show of disrespect, but their faces held neutral expressions as if this was to be expected - some even looked rather sympathetic. A sigh left his lips as Arthur's small arms were hoisted into the air, begging to be lifted. After a moment of hesitation he scooped his son up.

"Arthur, I'm very, very busy."

The boy's lip quivered and his blue eyes were bright with unshed tears, threatening to fall onto his flushed cheeks.

"I - just - want - you to - play - with - me" Arthur choked out between pathetic sobs. His breathing was uneven and his throat was sore. Uther thought about how he should answer, especially with the watchful eyes of his company on him now. He didn't have to think too long. The nursemaid burst through the doors, stopping so suddenly that she almost tripped over. Her auburn hair was falling out of her usually neat bun, some of it sticking up in tufts, and she was panting as though she'd ran for her life to get here. Many bemused faces turned towards her and her already red cheeks flamed up more.

"My apologies, my Lord," she gave a small curtsey before her eyes settled on Arthur's back. He refused to look at her. "He disappeared without my noticing. I am truly sorry for the disturbance."

Uther's eyes flashed dangerously. Disappeared without her noticing? What if he hadn't come straight here? A young boy such as Arthur shouldn't be wandering away alone - he was ready to lecture her on her idiotic behaviour - but everyone in the room could see the tension visibly leave him and his shoulders slump tiredly. He didn't have the patience to explain to this stupid woman how dangerous this could have been. Arthur was placed back gently onto the floor and told to leave with the nursemaid. He was stubborn and reluctant to go, but in the end he left the room; following the woman with his head hanging to the floor.

* * *

Arthur didn't like the nursemaid. Her name was Harriet. She was boring and didn't play with him and Arthur knew she said rude, mean things about him under her breath. Sometimes he didn't know what the words meant, but he could tell they were bad because her voice sounded low and annoyed, and she watched him with bitter, grey eyes. She wasn't his first nursemaid. There was another; a younger woman who Arthur was extremely fond of. She had smooth blonde curls and soft skin - sometimes her eyes were golden brown then other times they shone green and she whispered stories about magic. Arthur liked those stories. They were secrets between her and him; he was the only one who heard the tales of adventure that she breathed out. He remembered her name was Daisy. Often Arthur wondered if she was called Daisy because she smelled nice. She was the prettiest woman Arthur had ever seen.

Daisy had to leave though. He didn't know why. One day, Daisy was halfway through telling Arthur about a great, wise dragon, with wings as big as the sky itself and knowing gold eyes. Arthur listened intently to every word with his lips parted and his blue eyes wide with excitement, watching as she smiled brightly at the fidgeting of his chubby hands. But she never finished her story. Guards burst through the door and gripped her arms tightly, dragging her out, kicking and screaming. Arthur thought he saw her eyes flash a great glowing gold… Like the dragon. She cried out to the young boy, reassuring him that everything was going to be okay. He almost didn't hear her as the guards were shouting too, then she was out of the room and the doors slammed shut. Arthur was left in silence.

His blue eyes turned downward to the fur rug beneath him. Privately, he liked thinking about Daisy, but he felt an unpleasant heavy sensation deep in his chest. Arthur realised with a start that he felt the same thing when he seen all the other kids with mothers standing by their sides.

Lots of wooden trinkets were strewn out before him: knights, horses, swords. He hadn't even realised a man had sat in front of him, cross-legged and watching.

"Hello," Arthur heard. He raised his head, pushing strands of hair out of his eyes to see the man better. He was probably the tallest man Arthur had ever seen. He was pale and slim, with a head of black hair and an angular face. His skin looked soft like Daisy's, and his eyes were glowing gold just like _hers_ had _that day_. Like the _dragons_. The man's lips were curled upwards in a warm smile. Arthur mimicked the action.

"Hi. I'm Arthur, Arthur Pendragon. I'm a Prince."

The man chuckled lightly while his golden eyes scrunched at the gesture. Arthur found he liked the sound of the man's laughter.

"I know you are. My name is Emrys."

"That's a funny name." Arthur stated. Abruptly he froze. Often he said foolish things to Harriet; she would accuse him of being insolent and threaten him. He didn't tell his father. But what if Emrys thought he was being 'insolent'?

"You're right; it's a very funny name." Arthur was relieved to see Emrys still held the same warm smile. "Pendragon's not much better though."

The prince gazed at Emrys with a defiant stare. "My name has dragon in it. That means I'm brave and strong. Emrys is just silly."

Emrys laughed loudly and clapped his hands together but didn't do much more. The man wasn't angry. He just kept laughing and smiling. Arthur resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at him – instead he asked him a question.

"Are you magic?"

Emrys golden eyes watched him very seriously.

"Yes."

Arthur was reminded of all of Daisy's stories. He always loved magic but he wasn't a stupid boy. Uther hated it. He had tried to make Arthur hate it, but Daisy had enlightened him to the beauty and ardour of magic – Arthur used to stare wistfully at the trees and rivers of Camelot as he had been told the magic flowed through them. In summer when he heard the buzz of insects and could feel the heat of the sun through his clothes, that was magic. _That day_ Daisy's eyes had changed colour. They had changed to gold. He hadn't been scared, he had been mesmerized. Daisy, beautiful Daisy, was magical. And now Emrys was too.

The two of them had sat there for the rest of the day, Arthur playing with the toys and Emrys keeping him company. Arthur noticed that Emrys' slender fingers would glide over the wooden toys before him, almost but not quite touching them. Mostly, though, his gaze would flick to Arthur, just watching. And as Arthur blathered on he realised…

Emrys was _listening_ to him.

* * *

**A/N: So Emrys has been introduced. :) And so you all know, his eyes are constantly gold. Never blue. And also, yes, Daisy was a sorceress and she was found out. But Arthur doesn't understand that yet. I like Daisy - although we don't see much of her she's a lovely girl with an appreciation for magic. And she's one of those rare magical folk who doesn't want to murder Arthur. I felt bad writing her capture :(! Anyway I hope you guys liked it :D **

**Thanks for reading**

**-xo**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Sigh. This is FANfiction. I am a fan. I don't own Merlin, I just manipulated the characters into doing what I want.**

**I wish I could do that in real life.**

**I feel that I should tell you that this is strictly bromance. As much as I love merthur slash I amen't writing it here, it's all friendship. In case anyone wondered. x**

* * *

**Chapter 2**

_Seven years old_

The visitors from the Kingdom of Glaswern joined the king and prince for dinner. The two kings at the table engaged in jovial conversation, drinking wine and jesting loudly. Arthur sat sullenly to the right of his father, opposite one of the princesses. She was a tad older than Arthur, though not by much. Her long chocolate hair was tied back from her face, falling to her left in a thick braid. Her brown eyes were the same as her fathers, but while his were happy, hers were disgusted as she looked at the food on her plate.

_Idiot_, Arthur thought. He decided to direct his scrutiny to the older princess. She too, had brown locks but hers fell freely down her back, and her eyes were blue like Arthur's. She had a light sprinkling of freckles across her nose and he noticed some on her arms. She was sneaking smiles to Uther's servant, Oliver - a young shy man filling up goblets or taking away finished plates - who would subsequently stutter or trip or do something equally clumsy. And so, she would laugh noiselessly into her food while eating it. This girl looked around sixteen. Arthur thought she seemed nice enough.

The young one kept sighing dramatically and rolling her eyes. It annoyed Arthur to no end – the way she would sink lower into her chair, drop her arms as if they were dead and let out a long, pained breath – it made him want to stab the table. Eventually he had had enough of this torture.

"Will you shut up?!" He shouted, impolitely. All eyes turned to him in shock – Uther looked at him furiously, the other king (whose name Arthur hadn't bothered to remember) blinked incredulously.

"Arthur!" Uther roared, his face the picture of anger. Arthur wasn't afraid.

"She's so annoying! She won't stop huffing and – and – her face is -"

"I am not annoying!" the princess stood, looming over the table and slamming her hands down. She regarded Arthur with a threatening expression, but it only infuriated Arthur more. He picked up his goblet and threw the liquid into her face.

Everyone in the room froze.

The young princess balled her hands into fists and scrunched her eyes closed; she was visibly shaking. A high pitched scream broke the silence – everyone flustered about: Uther's servant tripped again, the older princess jumped back from her sister but bit down on her index finger to suppress inappropriate laughter, Arthur was being pulled away by a guard to be sent to his room, and the king of Glaswern was hovering about his daughter. The last thing Arthur saw before the door shut was the king smoothing her hair from sticking to her forehead and trying to calm her down.

He tumbled into his chambers. The doors swiftly shut as Arthur turned back to kick them. An aggravated groan slipped out of his mouth – books were thrown from the shelves, his covers angrily stripped from the beds, he punched a lot, threw a lot, moaned a lot.

"What on earth are you doing?" Emrys asked from their usual spot on the fur rug. Arthur sighed meekly and lowered himself across from the man.

"I'm angry."

"I wouldn't have guessed." Emrys replied sarcastically. Arthur let his head tip backward in exasperation, his body following its lead. He lay on the rug staring at the dark wooden panelling of the celling without a sound. The presence of Emrys lying down next to him caused Arthur to avert his eyes, resting now on Emrys' face. "What happened?"

"They're locking me in here because I called that stupid princess annoying and threw my drink on her." Arthur announced all of this without sounding concerned or acknowledging that he'd done anything wrong. Emrys shook his head.

"You shouldn't have. It doesn't matter how annoying she is, you should learn manners. Keep things like that private. She's not much older than you. She was probably just extremely bored."

Arthur gawked at him feeling betrayed.

"But she's annoying!"

"And you're a prat. I bet she didn't call _you_ names."

He narrowed his blue eyes while Emrys inspected him with his gold ones. Finally, he relented, agreeing with this statement. She _didn't_ call him names. Guilt started to invade his mind – he really shouldn't have been so rude to her in her presence, or poured his drink over her. It wasn't necessary. However, instead of showing Emrys that he was in fact correct, he said,

"You can't speak to me like that. I'm the prince."

Emrys snorted and swiped his hair out of his eyes.

"Like hell."

They lay there for some time. Arthur tried to slyly wriggle closer to the man, finding his company soothing. No one said a word. As Arthur moved one last time, their arms were pressed together, but with a start Arthur realised there was no heat radiating from Emrys. He wasn't cold… he just… had no temperature. It was as if he was an extension of the air. After a few more moments of the easy stillness, Arthur's voice broke through the silence.

"I should apologise to her; to her father. To _my_ father."

A low hum from Emrys' throat was the only answer he received but he guessed it was in agreement. Arthur could feel Emrys' inquisitive gaze rake over his face before he raised a hand; Arthur watched curiously.

"Sum ácolitus sylfum blisse"[1]

Swirling out of Emrys' pale fingers was a shining, blue light. It accumulated together into a churning ball of light about the size of Arthur's head, glowed brighter and expanded into a shape.

A dragon.

It beat its wings and danced above their heads, flying in all directions just like a real one. Out of the corner of his eye Arthur could see his friend's hands moving in slow motions, sweeping through the air. Emrys was impressive indeed. A smile tugged at Arthur's lips as he remembered the words Emrys' so frequently reminded him of.

_My name has dragon in it. That means I'm brave and strong._

He wasn't in such a bad mood anymore.

* * *

**A/N: LONG NOTE BUT IT WILL HELP YOU OUT. Glaswern is completely fictional. I thought about Glasgow and just wrote some random letters, haha! I hope you enjoyed this chapter :) Also Arthur 'shifting closer' or whatever is just to do with friendship - remember he's 7 here. He just feels safer around Emrys. **

**[1] I looked up "a light of happiness" in old english because I'm not creative. It's not an accurate translation as the translator didn't let me put in the whole phrase? What even is that? And one of the words is slightly off because I liked it better. HOWEVER Arthur is imagining all of this so I'm not sure it matters. **

**Arthur knows that Emrys isn't exactly real but he's stopped questioning it. I always imagined that Arthur would accidently mention him or something and no one would know what he was talking about - then there would be an argument and Arthur would be all "I hate you" and Emrys would say "A half cannot truly hate that which makes it whole" BECAUSE BEST LINE.**

**And Emrys calling Arthur a 'prat' explanation: Arthur hears things around the knights (bad words) so that's where he would've got it from. And I wanted to use it because it's very Merlin-y.**

**Anyhoo, thanks for reading! **

**-xo**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

_Ten years old_

Arthur stormed into his chambers with tears streaming down his cheeks, his breathing ragged and hands violently wiping the wetness on his face away. He let out a strangled sound, falling on the sheets of his bed face-first. _Why had no one told him?_

His fingers knotted in his covers. He kicked his legs frantically, his pillow muffling his desperate scream. A hand rested on his shoulder. Arthur leapt up from his position, eyeing whoever had shown him compassion. He wasn't surprised to see Emrys. The sunlight shone in from the window – it gave the man a strange, alien glow. His white skin seemed to gleam a pale yellow and the light lifted the black from his hair which was revealed to be a dark brown. His sharp cheekbones cast shadows on his face, and his already bright golden eyes looked lighter than usual. A sob rose in Arthur's throat as he clutched his friend around the waist. Emrys didn't hesitate to wrap his own arms around the child; Arthur's face smothered in his chest and Emrys' hand stroking his blonde tresses, murmuring peaceful words into his ear. At last, Arthur ceased his shaking and crying.

"Nobody told me about my mother."

"What do you mean?" The man inquired. Arthur cast his orbs to his hands and picked at his nails.

"Nobody told me that I ki- that she died because of… me."

Emrys smiled sympathetically, lightly pushing Arthur's shoulder.

"Now you're really being an ass" said Emrys.

Arthur glanced up, hurt. How could his best friend insult him now, when he was so upset? He didn't reply. Just took breaths. One, two, three.

"Arthur, look at me," Arthur hadn't even realised he wasn't watching him anymore. He focused on Emrys, "Good. Arthur, your mother did not die because of you. She didn't die because of anyone, no one is to blame."

As much as Arthur longed to believe those words he knew he couldn't. It was his fault.

"Now I know why nobody likes me. Even the nursemaid hates me." Arthur's voice was feeble and small but anyone could tell that he really believed what he just said - the prince truly thought so low of himself. He hung his head, tried to swallow the lump in his throat and keep the tears down. Emrys openly stared at him in shock, but his face grew sad.

"That's not true. I'm your friend, I always will be." Then, as an afterthought, "and the nursemaid is mean because she's jealous of you. She knows that everybody here is your friend and she wants that. Right?" He pushed Arthur's shoulder lightly and his lips curled upwards affectionately. Arthur felt a warmth bubble in his chest and his whole body felt lighter than it had since he'd heard the news of his mother. He felt lighter yes, but still felt as though a great weight had been placed upon his shoulders. He made himself smile back.

If he hadn't been born his mother would be alive, happy. She would be the queen that Camelot deserved and loved. She would be kind, just and graceful… she would be breathing. He'd often wondered about the sound of his mother's voice. Had it been strong, independent and powerful? Or soft, calm and tender?

What did she think about magic? Did she despise it as much as his father did? Or was she like him and Daisy and Emrys and so many others who saw the raw power of magic as a thing of beauty?

"Your mother was beautiful, you know," Emrys' voice was barely a whisper but Arthur heard him, clear as day. The boy's eyes grew wide and hopeful.

"You knew her?" Arthur couldn't stop his voice from conveying his wonder and interest – if Emrys knew his mother then there was so much to discover! He could ask all the questions that plagued his mind, questions he thought would remain unanswered and would die with him. Emrys nodded once. "Can you tell me about her?"

The two males altered their positions slightly: Emrys sat with his arm around Arthur's shoulders, and Arthur's head rested on Emrys' chest. Arthur closed his eyes. Emrys spoke.

"Your mother appeared incredibly like you, Arthur. She had blue eyes – the brightest blue you can imagine, like the sea or the sky – and long dark eyelashes. Her skin was pale but with a glow to it. She didn't look sickly or tired with paleness – it shone, like the sun. Her golden hair was like silk, and it fell to the middle of her back in loose curls. I used to think that if I ever saw an angel, the creature would resemble your mother." There was a pause as Arthur took this all in, then Emrys continued, just as quietly as he had begun. "Not only was she beautiful, Arthur, but she possessed a spectacular mind. She was fair and just, and loyal. She was one of the most intelligent people in the whole of Albion. The people of the kingdom respected her. They were her friends, she didn't care if you were a noble or a servant: as long as you were kind and strong just as she was, she appreciated you."

Emrys held Arthur closer and stroked his arm with his thumb absently. Arthur was exhausted. His eyes were drooping and feeling heavier by the second, but he yearned to obtain more information about his mother. She seemed exactly like he wished she would be.

"What else?" Arthur asked wearily. Emrys' gold eyes viewed the prince sadly.

"She loved magic. Your mother didn't understand it, no one does, but that didn't scare her. She knew of people who used magic for good. It flourished within the kingdom with her as Camelot's queen. Dark magic was all that she frowned upon, but she let the people utilise magic for the right reasons. She let farmers increase their yield with magic, she let healers and physicians like Gaius use magic for making people better…" His voice trailed off as Arthur slipped off to sleep, lying contently atop his blankets. His eyes moved behind his lids watching a dream unfold before him, his breathing was slow and lengthened as he fell further into sleep, contentedly sighing.

Emrys hadn't known Arthur's mother. Emrys never would.

Now, as Arthur was no longer awake, his best friend vanished into thin air.

* * *

**A/N: A shorter chapter I believe. :o my bad. Emrys told a lie to make Arthur feel better, which I think is quite sweet. I hope no one is annoyed at that - but if Arthur was really desperate to know stuff about him mum wouldn't his mind sort of... make stuff up? Arthur thinks she sounds perfect, because she is, she's exactly what Arthur wants her to be. So yeah. Thanks for reading!**

**-xo**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

_Eleven years old_

Arthur slowed his pace as he passed two servants conversing with each other. They stood close together, speaking in hushed tones and leaning against the castle wall.

"It's that Edric fella; the one always comin' in the kitchens takin' too much food for one person on a tray and scoffin' it to himself later - can't believe he's one of those sorcerer types."

Both women were plump and had big brown eyes and simple peasant dresses on. One of them was pale, while the other had dark, coffee coloured skin. The pale one looked anxious.

"I don't think he _is_ the type" she whispered harshly, "I knew him. Edric would never get involved in such -" her eyes had landed on Arthur. He strolled onwards casually. Both women inclined their heads towards his in a nonchalant manner, yet their eyes were both wary and alarmed. Had Arthur heard them talking? Such matters were not to be discussed; it showed doubt in your king's judgement.

The prince's head turned back towards them as he was walking away. They were still watching him. He rushed out of their alert, peering eyes and into a doorway, heading to his father.

* * *

Uther barely glanced up from the map stretched out on the desk in front of him as Arthur sauntered in. There was a tense moment where neither royal spoke. Arthur cleared his throat.

Uther didn't even move.

"Father, I've come to talk to you." Arthur declared with his head high, shoulders back and arms at his sides. Uther remained in the same position he was in before.

"You may talk to me when you address me correctly," he said offhandedly. His gloved fingers slid down the map, marking a route to somewhere Arthur didn't care about. The prince took a deep breath.

"Forgive me, Sire. I request an audience with you," then begrudgingly, "please."

King Uther raised his eyes to his son's. The smallest of smiles appeared on his lips, but it didn't touch his eyes. Arthur knew it was because Uther was pretending to be busy but had been interrupted, consequently putting him in a harsher mood. The king's feet brought him steadily forward until he stopped beside a chair, grasping it with his hand and resting his weight upon it.

"What is it that you have come to discuss?" His slightly aged face betrayed nothing. Arthur resisted the urge to clear his throat again, apologise and run away.

"The sorcerer: Edric, I think his name is."

Arthur watched with a sick kind of pleasure as the king became uncomfortable. His father's whole body tensed and his gaze stiffened, his lips pulled into a tight line. He took loud breaths in through his nose.

_Well, this can only end badly_, Arthur thought. No one said a word. Arthur wondered if he should continue on without prompting as it didn't look like his father was in any state fit to speak, but the prince didn't know how to approach the subject under this much pressure. He took a calming breath.

"Why are you going to kill him?"

The words felt wrong as soon as he voiced them. He was a child; no child should even have to consider broaching this issue. The sound of stretching leather resonated through the chilled room as the king tightened his grip on the chair. Arthur almost took a step back.

"He is a sorcerer. He is evil and he is a threat to Camelot, we cannot simply have such dangers roaming the kingdom – he is not the first to be put to death as you very well know." Uther's eyes glinted in anticipation, challenging his son to answer.

"Do you have proof?" His tentative voice asked. Arthur had hoped to sound confident and in control, but clearly it was too much to ask as his voice cracked slightly.

"Do not question me, Arthur." Uther's tone was serious, perilous. Arthur was brave – he wasn't scared of the dark, or of the large creatures lurking in the forest, or even Morgana; his new 'kind-of sister'. Despite being this brave, Arthur had to admit that the warning had frightened him, because his father was not acting like a father now. He was acting like a king.

The blonde involuntarily swallowed while trying to keep his hands from shaking – his face probably looked comical he was concentrating so hard. He didn't enjoy crossing his father. Morgana had been here only a few months and she argued with Uther about even the most trivial things. Arthur had marvelled at her in disbelief and, though he would never confess to it, admiration. He wished she was here now – with her sharp tongue and blatant disobedience – to help him.

He hoped he wouldn't faint or cry or something equally as weak as he tried to force words out.

"Magic… isn't… always… bad?" His voice sounded strangled. Uther's whole face twisted into a mask of pure anger – but Arthur couldn't stop rambling.

"Did he ever do anything bad? Did he ever hurt anyone? Why was he accused? He's never been a threat to Camelot before – in fact he brings me breakfast sometimes and it's always nice although I admit maybe a little sparse -"

"Arthur! Magic is unnatural! It is never used for good and never will be. We must eradicate all traces of it -"

"Mum liked magic!" Arthur screamed. His throat felt scratchy and his eyes stung. He grit his teeth together and stifled an angry groan – _I don't want to cry in front of_ him. He watched the king intently. It was as if a dam in Uther had broken its banks and a wave of thoughts… emotions… memories came flooding towards him, crashing into him. Drowning him.

"Your mother is dead because of -!"

Both Pendragons halted their movement. Erratic, huffed breaths poured freely out of their mouths. Their eyes locked. Uther turned.

Arthur's father continued to ignore his presence, or at least it felt like that to the prince, and still neither of them said another word. He kept his back to his son who glared at him from his spot, being confident enough to hold his ground, but too nervous to spit what he wanted to say out. Arthur's head was filled with a strange pulsing, throbbing feeling – it wasn't pain. Anger?

"You will bear witness to the execution at noon tomorrow. It's about time you saw one." The prince sucked in an audible gasp of panic. He had always been trapped in his room whenever there was an execution - it was a small relief. Arthur swore he could hear the swipe of the axe or the prisoners' screams as the flames licked at their skin; he had always been glad not to have to watch as they would stop struggling, stop screaming, stop breathing. Now that small mercy would be taken from him. Arthur didn't try to protest. He knew that his efforts would be futile and he would only make it worse for himself. He walked away without another word.

* * *

Uther Pendragon stood stiffly infront of the gathered crowd. Arthur stood beside him. The sun shone too brightly into Arthur's eyes, blinding him. He watched absently as a spider crawled across the grey cobbles effortlessly, and into the crowd. A stout man noticed it too. He crushed it into the ground with his boot. The prince scrunched his eyes and looked away - usually he wouldn't find watching a spider die uncomfortable, but on this particular day it seemed to foreshadow the events that would come to pass. An innocent man would die at the hands of someone with more power than he.

"Let this be a warning to all!" Uther projected through the courtyard, "Sorcery is an unforgivable crime. It is poison, nothing more. I will do everything in my power to eradicate it from our lands."

Edric, the accused, was led out by armed guards. Dirt was smeared on his face and his loose clothes, and bits of yellow hay clung to him. A sleepless night, then. _Not without good reason_. His shoulders slumped hopelessly as the guards practically dragged him along without enough time to move his feet himself, their armour glinting in the light and clanking as they brought him to his death. Edric caught Arthur's eye as he neared the block and didn't look away. Even as he was shoved down by the executioner, scraping his chin on the splintered wood in effort, he held Arthur's gaze and before closing his eyes a final time, nodded at the Prince.

Uther dug his fingers into his son's right shoulder while a gentler, more comforting hand rested on his left.

"You have been found guilty of sorcery. Magic is outlawed in these lands - yet you knowingly committed this crime and thus a crime against your King. You have only malicious intent." Uther's steel grey eyes swept over the crowd, daring them to object. "Under the laws of Camelot, I have no choice but to sentence you to death."

"You mustn't look away," Arthur heard, whispered in his ear. Emrys' hand still lingered on his shoulder. He squeezed a little tighter, slid his hand into Arthur's hair and smoothed it down. Uther nodded. That was the signal. The axe swung frighteningly fast; the executioner was obviously well practiced and swift, but the young prince watched it all move slowly. He saw Edric's jaw tense and his eyes shut a little tighter. His eyelashes grazed his cheeks for a second, a tear slipped downwards. The axe sliced through his neck and lodged itself in the block.

There was a collective gasp among the crowd before they all started to disperse. How could they just leave after this? Arthur couldn't understand it. It felt like he was fixed to the spot, his whole body frozen and immobile. Two pairs of hands guided him back to his chamber, one pair unwelcome. The door shut with a click.

The prince lowered himself onto the cold stone floor as his eyes followed the dust motes spiralling leisurely around in the air. They glittered lazily in the sunlight.

"Arthur…"

He closed his eyes.

"Arthur it's time for me to leave you." Still, there was no response from the boy. Emrys hesitated. "I need you to stay this way – don't let Uther warp your beliefs, _remember_ all of this. Remember Daisy, and remember me."

Arthur scratched his nails into the floor and took a deep breath through his nose. He heard Emrys mumble something along the lines of "it'll be a lot easier that way" and finally the presence vanished. Arthur could pinpoint the exact moment that he was alone. He didn't stop crying for hours; his breathing was ragged and rough and he made strange sobbing noises. When he finally stopped he felt numb. He barely touched his dinner in the evening, and there was no conversation between the three sitting at the table. Morgana kept fiddling with her hair and looking awkwardly between Arthur and Uther. Sometimes Arthur noticed that she would fix her eyes on him sadly and sigh.

He didn't sleep that night.

* * *

**A/N: Right! The first thing I'd like to address is Emrys leaving Arthur in this chapter. After telling my mum "that's him gone now" she asked why he left. And I thought about it and I think I know why. This whole story has been composed of difficult moments for Arthur, and it's been building up to him 'losing his childhood' and his innocence. Emrys is a teacher, but you can only teach for so long. Eventually the child will grow up and not need your help anymore - and that's it. Arthur had lost his childhood after seeing Edric executed. After that last part died, Emrys had to die with it.**

**Cheery.**

**That's it then, we're coming to a close. _There's only one chapter left_. The story makes absolutely no sense, but I wrote it for me personally to get the idea out of my head. You can interpret it any way you want - Emrys could be imaginary, he could be a projection, a ghost, I don't mind. Whatever suits you. The main thing is that he helps shape Arthur to become a better person.**


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